FORGIVENESS
by JennyLB
Summary: Carter helps Reese out of a difficult situation. In doing so, she also tries to help him deal with the darkness of his past.
1. Rescue

Chapter One: Rescue

"Detective Carter, John needs your help. Where are you, detective?" an anxious Harold Finch spoke into his cell phone to Detective Joss Carter as she sat at her desk completing paperwork.

"I'm at the station…and I think you know already where I am. Where is he, Finch?" she calmly asked.

"It's Donnelly," Finch nervously stated. "He's got John on a chase. John hasn't been able to shake him yet."

"Special Agent Donnelly," Carter sighed.

"Yes, Detective, I know. This one's not so cut and dry."

"What do you want me to do?" Carter asked.

"Somehow, you need to get Donnelly off his tail."

"Where are they?"

"Heading toward Brighton Beach..right now."

"Okay, Finch, I'll see what I can do, but…"

"Thank you…" Finch interrupted.

"But…I don't know what," Carter finished.

"Thank you, Detective Carter," Finch repeated as he hung up the phone and continued staring at the monitor where he could see the red blip that represented John's rapidly moving location. He was frightened that John couldn't get out of this one. He had been fortunate to get out of numerous close calls so far, but Donnelly was different. He was a good man, so maiming or killing him was not an option.

Carter stared a few seconds at her phone then pushed speed dial to get Reese.

"Little busy right now, Carter," Reese stated after he flipped on his ear piece.

"That's what I'm calling about, John. Finch called me to help you try and get out of this one. He says it's Donnelly."

"Yes," Reese stated calmly as he swerved his car into the right lane to pass a car using the left.

Carter could hear the squealing of tires through the phone. "John, I'm going to connect to your GPS to catch up to you."

Reese wanted to tell her to stay away from this one because it was too dangerous and too risky for her career, but he knew he needed her help…needed her. "Okay, Carter. Thanks."

They hung up from each other as Carter turned on and waited for Reese's GPS signal to come on her phone so she could more easily get to him. She left the station and began driving toward his location, not knowing what she could possibly do when she got to him.

Fifteen minutes later his signal stopped moving. Carter's stomach clinched. This was not a good sign. She continued speeding toward Reese's signal, not wanting to call him but feeling fearful that this could only mean that Donnelly had caught up to him or that he had wrecked, which was also not good.

A little later she approached Brighton Playground where John's signal had abruptly stopped. It was dark, and there was no sign of Donnelly or John anywhere. As she skulked her car toward the parking lot near the park, she saw red and blue flashing lights of an ambulance and fire truck on the scene of what was apparently a car accident. One car had rear-ended another. Parking her car, Carter got out and flashed her badge at the police on the scene. "Detective Carter, NYPD," she announced as she kept walking toward the crashed vehicles.

The cops on the scene recognized her authority and lifted the yellow tape for her to more easily get underneath.

"Thanks," she acknowledged. "What's happened here?"

"Some FBI agent crashed into the back of the car of a criminal he was chasing," the cop answered.

"Any fatalities?" she nervously asked.

The cop didn't know Joss Carter or her tone of voice when she was nervous, so he thought nothing of it as he answered, "Just the Agent was still in his car. He's pretty banged up but will be okay. The suspect's air bag deployed when he crashed into those parked cars, but he somehow escaped."

"Escaped?"

"I don't know how in the hell he could have gotten out of that wrecked car, but he's not in there."

"Thanks," Carter answered. She took one last look at the crushed cars and exhaled a deep breath. The car John was driving had smashed into several parked cars and had lost its windshield. Its front end was demolished, and the driver's door was ajar. Joss Carter knew how capable John Reese was in getting out of extremely dangerous situations, though.

Turning back toward her car, she knew that the GPS signal had to be correct placing John in the park. Backing away from the accident, she nodded to the cop as he held up the yellow caution tape again; then she got in her car and headed back to the park.

She parked her car on the street and went on foot toward the bench inside the fenced-in park. The cold air whipped through her hair and across her face. She dialed John, but it beeped that "no-service" beep. "Okay, no cell. Now, what do you want me to do, John?" she asked, mostly to herself.

She was cold but continued to sit on the bench. She owed him that. He would do the same for her. Several minutes later she heard the ambulance and fire truck begin inching their way out of the parking lot. She followed them with her deep brown eyes as they drove down Boardwalk Street to take Donnelly to the hospital. After the wrecker trucks had hauled away all of the cars that had been crumbled beyond model identification, all was quiet. She continued to sit on the bench in the silence.

A few moments later, the shrill of her cell phone made her jump. "Oh, It's you. Listen, I'll call you as soon as I find him, okay? Just hang tight. There was an accident, but John got out of his car, so that's a good thing. I'm waiting in Brighton Park for him where his GPS signal last had him. I'll call you when I locate him," she said as she pushed the OFF button on her cell, not allowing Finch to say anything in response.

Flecks of snow stung her face. Her hands were beginning to feel numb from cold. "John," she yelled. "I'm here."

A good number of minutes passed, but she continued waiting on the bench. Squinting her eyes and moving forward on the bench, she could see the outline of a figure in the distance. "John," she excitedly said to herself. "You're okay." Cautiously, she said aloud, "John? Is that you? John?"

John could hear Carter up ahead in front of him calling him as she sat on a bench in the cold of the night. He didn't have the strength to answer her call but walked toward her as quickly as possible. He appreciated her deeply at that moment.

Rushing toward the figure in the distance, Carter could see that it was John and that he was walking more slowly than normal, holding onto the playground equipment as he stepped. "Thanks, Carter," he said as she approached him.

"I don't know how in the hell you can possibly get yourself out of these horrific situations, but somehow you always do," Carter answered as she put her arm around his shoulder.

"Somehow," Reese laughed.

Carter could see the cut on his head and that he flinched when he breathed, but he certainly looked better than she envisioned he would look considering the condition of his car. She saw him shake against the cold air and wasn't sure if that meant he was in shock or was just cold. "Come on, let's get you home."

He didn't respond, just shot her a quick smile and began walking toward her car on the street outside the park.

"Besides the obvious head wound and probably bruised ribs, where else are you hurt?"

"That sums it up," Reese softly spoke as he swayed to the side.

"Whoa…John!"

Reese caught himself before falling. "No worries, Carter."

Carter moved in a little closer, clinching his shoulder more tightly as she led him to her car. She knew that he would probably not disclose unseen injuries to her. "No worries? What do you mean no worries? Donnelly was this close to snagging your ass! You could have been killed! You scared me half to death, John Reese!"

John looked at her as she continued her tirade. There was nothing really he could say to her but was touched that she apparently seemed to care about him.

Carter continued, "You're always the tough guy, huh, John?"

Reese smirked. "Can I use your phone to call Finch? Mine got a little… well… destroyed."

When they reached her car, Carter handed John her phone. Under the streetlamp, she began looking him over to see what damage had actually been inflicted on him in the accident. He was a little bloodier than she had initially noticed, and white airbag dust was on his face and in his eyes, causing his eyes to become irritated and swollen. She was more concerned, however, with how Donnelly had caught up to him than with his injuries that she knew he would quickly overcome.

As he talked to Finch, she thought about what an interesting relationship they had. Their once employer-employee relationship was transforming into a friendship—loosely speaking. Neither one seemed the type to need someone to unload personal details on, but she remembered how worried and determined John was when Finch had been recently kidnapped. She also could hear Finch's frantic tones when John was in trouble and needed help.

"Yes, Finch," John said. He then followed up with, "I don't know."

Carter suspected Finch was asking how Donnelly had found him. "Tell him I'm taking you to your place to get cleaned up and that you'll see him later.

Reese turned to acknowledge Carter's statement as he continued talking with Finch. "Listen, just do what you need to do. I'll check in with you tomorrow. Call me when you're back."

As Reese turned back toward Carter, she could see that his head wound was continuing to bleed and that he also had crystals of windshield glass in his hair and face. He continued rubbing his eyes to relieve the irritation made by the airbag dust. "Just sit back and relax. We'll be at your place soon," she said as she put her hand on his arm and gently pushed it down from his eyes.

Reese realized what he was instinctively doing and allowed his hand to go to his lap.

Carter saw from her peripheral vision that Reese had put back his head on the head rest and had closed his eyes. "Should you be doing that?" she asked. "You might have a concussion. That wound looks rough."

"Ahh…that's an urban legend, Joss."

"It is not, John!"

"Okay, Dr. Joss Carter, I'll stay awake in the event that I have a concussion because I'm sure staying awake will keep me alive," Reese sarcastically stated.

Carter reached over and swatted him on his shoulder. For a split-second, their bantering seemed normal to her…like they could have been any normal couple heading home from an evening of dinner and the theater. She shook that off because she knew that nothing about John Reese…and the crazy relationship they had…was normal.

And it never would be.

After her husband had been killed, she decided that she would never put herself out there to get close to any other man. She didn't trust any other man. It was just her and Taylor…and of course her mother, too. But neither of them could ever come close to replacing what she missed not having a spouse. So she put her whole self into her job and her son.

Then along came John Reese in her life. Watching him get shot by the bullet she had practically fired herself last year threw off her balanced system of right and wrong, good and bad. With Reese, she had to extend her boundaries and definitions. She couldn't believe that her relationship with him had actually developed into a friendship and that she was the one he would call to help him out of difficult situations. She couldn't believe that she always responded to him, wanted to help him. There was a place for him in her life, and she had come quite connected to him this past year. She had allowed herself to trust him even though she knew very little about him.

All she did know about him was what was in his file that she had shredded last year when she learned that Donnelly was leading an FBI team to try and capture him. She knew that there was once a girlfriend named Jessica who had been killed. She had saved the picture of him and Jessica…couldn't bring herself to shred it with the stack of paper.

John had looked happy then, she thought. His smile, his eyes…were different than they are now. She couldn't grasp how, but now he seemed to be mostly on auto-pilot, non-emotional, not really happy or sad or afraid or angry…any of the emotions that make human beings human. What had happened to him, she wondered. She knew that whatever happened to him, the CIA was somehow involved, and they were out to eliminate John Reese from this world.

But even after a year together, she still knew little else about this man who sat beside her in her car. She believed that he was a good man and that he was trying to do good. So how could she argue with that? That's what she wanted, too.

She turned to look at Reese as she drove. He was still sitting back with his head propped against the headrest, but his eyes were open. She could see that the dust had caused his eyes to water, but he sat calmly with his hands in his lap. "You okay?"

"I'll be okay after a hot shower, clean clothes, and some food…and maybe some sleep."

"We'll be at your place in a few minutes," she said quietly.

"Thanks for saving my ass, Carter."

"You're welcome, John."

There was awkward silence between them for the remainder of the journey to his apartment. They rarely talked about anything other than the cases he was working on. John wasn't much of a conversationalist, and she accepted that about him.

She parked on the street outside his apartment. John continued sitting. "We're here. Don't fight me on this. I'm going up with you to help you."

"That's not necessary, Joss."

"I know, but it would make me feel better about this situation. Okay?"

"It's late. Don't you need to get home to Taylor?"

"No, I was on duty," Carter answered. "My mom is staying over tonight to make sure Taylor makes his curfew."

John gave her a funny expression.

"Winter dance."

"Oh," John said as he fished his keys out of his pocket.

Carter was curious what his apartment looked like…what kind of artwork, trinkets, furniture, books he possessed. She had never been inside his place, and she knew that these items might give her some insight as to who John Reese really is. "Don't argue with me. I'm going to help you get your injuries cleaned up."

John wasn't uncomfortable—nor was he totally comfortable—with Carter peering inside his world, but he knew that very little in his apartment actually reflected who he was. His apartment was open, bright, and spacious, and he regarded himself as closed, dark, and constricted. Everything in his apartment had been furnished by Finch except for the numerous weapons he harbored from crime scenes.

As he unlocked the door to his apartment, he held it open for Carter to enter. He followed behind her, turning on the lamp on the table by the door.

"John, nice place," Carter said in a surprising tone.

"You sound surprised," Reese answered, turning to her to muster up a smile.

"Geeze John, your head wound looks worse now!"

"I'm okay, Carter…just a bleeder."

"You go ahead and shower...and bring me your first-aid kit."

John turned obediently and headed to the bathroom.

She waited to hear the shower turn on but heard nothing. Then suddenly she heard a loud thump followed by a breaking sound and crash.


	2. Daybreak

Chapter Two: Daybreak

"John!" Carter screamed as she ran toward the bathroom.

Reese was sitting in the floor outside the bathroom door with a downed table and lamp and his first-aid kit strewn about in the floor beside him. The lamp was still on, shining light on the items on the floor all around him.

Carter knelt down beside him. She picked up the small lamp and placed it upright on the floor beside his legs. The light was too dim for her to determine what had happened to him. Looking around the hall, she located a light switch and flipped it upwards. The light barreled down causing Reese to close more tightly together his already closed eyes.

"What the hell, John?" She could see him struggling to open his eyes then gave up and softly spoke.

"My head is pounding. Think you're right about that concussion."

"Just sit tight until you think you can get on your feet. Okay?"

Reese slightly shook his head up and down so she would know that he was acknowledging her words. Even though his head was hurting, he knew he had endured many times injuries far worse.

"I'm going to get a wash cloth and get that dust and blood off your face."

"Can you also help me out of this vest first?" Reese softly asked.

"When did you start wearing…oh, never mind. It's not important," Carter said as she looked him over to determine the best way to get his jacket and shirt off to get to the bullet-proof vest he was apparently now wearing. It must have been Finch who insisted on that one. The John Reese she thought she knew always seemed to operate as though he had a personal challenge against the death sentence over his head. Hesitating slightly, she reached toward his jacket and white dress shirt and started unbuttoning them. She didn't understand why she felt awkward, but it had been a long time since she had undressed a man under any circumstance. "Lean forward," she instructed.

He did as he was told.

Easing the jacket off his shoulders and down his arms, she freed him of the jacket and threw it to the side. She could hear his breathing become intensified with signs of pain as she moved him around. "Pain?" she asked.

"Some," he answered, turning up the corners of his mouth. He hated being in situations where someone had to take care of him. If his mind hadn't been so hazy, he could have handled the vest buckles himself. But he knew he needed her at this moment to free him of that stupid vest Finch had started insisting he wear.

Carter returned his smile then went back to the dress shirt to get the last few buttons at the bottom of his shirt unbuttoned and then wriggle it free from his body. After a few maneuverings, she got his bloodied shirt off him and threw it on top of his jacket in the hall floor.

"Okay, John, the tee shirt will be more difficult, so try to work with me here. This is no easy feat."

Reese's eyelids were halfway open, and he turned his eyes upwards to look at her. He wanted to tell her just to pull it off quickly like you would if it were a bandage stuck on a wound, but he saved his energy because he knew he had to get up off the floor.

"Hold your arms up," Carter instructed as she gathered the shirt into a bunch to try and slip it off his head and then his arms. After several attempts, she was able to pull the tee shirt off him. She then focused on the white vest he wore. Surveying the vest, she saw the buckles that needed to be released. "This is going to be tough with you sitting here in the floor," she said.

Reese gave no acknowledgement of her statement. He figured she wanted him to stand, but his head continued releasing a steady, penetrating thump. He felt as though he were in an altered state of consciousness. He knew he needed just a few minutes to pull himself together.

Carter could tell that he was feeling the effects of the head wound. He would never openly admit that to her, though, she believed. She was on her own to try and get the vest released off his chest. She started by releasing the buckle at the top, working her way down. In order to release the buckles, she had to pull them in tighter. His bruised ribs would certainly feel this. "I'm sorry, John, this is going to hurt worse. Bear with me," she said as she approached the buckle over the center of his ribs.

Reese's eyes drooped.

"John, you still with me?"

John breathed in a small, shallow breath and gave his head a slight affirmative nod.

Carter went back to the buckles.

They had spent a fair amount of time together on cases helping one another, but she had never been physically this close to him. Their close proximity at this moment stirred feelings inside her that she hadn't felt in several years. She forced her concentration back to the vest and away from Reese and her current feelings about him.

As she drew in the straps to release the buckles, she could tell when the pain increased by the degree to which his eyes would open. She felt empathy for his pain. "One more buckle. Hang in here."

"I don't have…anywhere else…to be…unless Finch calls…with a case," Reese slowly answered.

Carter was intrigued but thought it better to wait and ask questions later about Finch and how they got their cases.

A few minutes later, she finally got the vest off him and threw it toward the jacket and shirts. It was a nice one, relatively light weight…much better than the ones given to NYPD officers, she thought. She returned her eyes back toward John and could tell by the condition of his chest that he probably had quite a few bruised ribs. She knew from experience how painful that was. Since his breathing wasn't labored, she didn't think anything was broken. "Wait here," she said. "I'll get that cloth and wash the dust and blood off your face."

Reese looked up at her, not offering any resistance.

Carter hesitated for a moment to figure out where he would keep wash cloths. She couldn't believe he had managed to stay calm this whole time. The pain from his head and ribs—not to mention the dust from the airbag—had to have hurt and irritated beyond what most normal people would tolerate this long.

She entered the sparse bathroom and opened the closet. Folded neatly were several towels and matching hand towels and wash cloths. She grabbed one and turned to the sink. Warming the water for a few moments, Carter submerged the cloth into the warm water. Wringing it out, she went back to John. She wasn't sure exactly where to start, so she placed the cloth directly on top of the blood that had run down his face and began gingerly washing it away.

He slightly grimaced with pain when she would get too close to the wound he could feel thumping on his forehead. Carter noticed that the head wound had already caused bruising and swelling under his eye.

Seeing the cloth was saturated with blood and gritty dust from the airbag, she returned to the bathroom and wrung out the cloth until the water squeezed out became clear. "Almost finished," she said even though she knew there was a lot left to clean off him. When she returned, she finished cleaning off the blood. She then cleaned the cloth to begin working on his eyes. She could see him tightly closing his eyes to lessen the irritation. "Here, hold the cloth over your eyes awhile so I can get the tweezers and remove the few pieces of glass in your neck."

Reese reached up and held the cloth over his eyes.

As she picked the glass out of his skin, she said, "Your eyes are probably going to burn for a while, and your head is going to hurt like a son-of-a-bitch for several days…not to mention your ribs. Geeze, John, I hope Mr. Finch will give you a day or two to recuperate.

Reese continued to breathe in shallow breaths as he sat propped up against the wall in the hallway. His hand holding the wash cloth slowly fell to his lap.

Carter couldn't tell if he were awake or asleep. Not taking any chances, she said, "John, you need to wake up."

Reese opened his eyes and looked around the room. "I'm awake."

"Let's get you up and to the couch in the den. Come on, I'll help you."

He acknowledged her by making movement to get to his feet. Some of the water on his face had run down onto his shoulders and chest. It glistened under the light. He looked surreal to her at that moment.

She had always thought of him as an attractive man, but at this moment he was stunning to her despite his injuries. The bone structure of his face, his sharp blue eyes, his olive complexion, his large muscular frame...she had never seen a man more beautiful. She caught herself and shook off the thoughts. What am I thinking, she asked herself. John Reese is who he is, and that was the very reason she reminded herself that he was off-limits to her. She didn't need anything else in her life complicating her life. "Do you want to shower now or wait til later?"

"I'll give it a go now," John answered as he headed away from the bathroom.

"So where are you going then?" she nervously asked, thinking the concussion had perhaps scrambled his brain.

"To get some jeans and a shirt."

"Oh, so my man in the suit has normal clothes?"

John smiled at how vastly different he was referred to now as compared to the first time they met…before Finch—and their mission—that is.

"Tell me where they are and I'll get them," she said. "You go clean up. But be careful. Don't you fall in that shower." She stared at his form as he turned back around toward her still standing in front of the bathroom door.

"Clothes are in the dresser near the bed," Reese said.

"Oh, okay." Carter responded, snapping back to reality. She watched as Reese tentatively made his way to the bathroom. A minute later she heard the shower come on. Okay, she thought to herself, at least he made it that far. She walked toward the small wooden dresser near his bed and began opening the drawers to locate jeans and a shirt. All of his clothes were neatly and compactly folded and put away strategically so they fit evenly in each drawer. "Damn military!" Carter spat.

Locating jeans and a white tee from the first several drawers, she couldn't help herself but to look in the bottom drawer. As she pulled it open with a force strong enough to open a draw full of clothes, she could feel that it was empty; however, the force caused something to shuffle forward. It was small and wrapped in a piece of an old newspaper. It looked yellowed and weather-beaten. Reaching down to pick it up, she turned to make sure the shower was still running.

It was.

She hesitated slightly, not wanting to betray his trust. Then she began unfolding the crinkled paper to determine what was inside because, as was painfully obvious to her, she really didn't know very much about him, and this object might be something that could put her or her country in jeopardy. Having mixed emotions was a new experience for her. As she got the newspaper unfolded, she could see that the object was a silver Crucifix on a chain. "Are you a religious man, John Reese?" she spoke aloud to the air as she sighed a breath of relief. She looked at it closely. It seemed old and worn. She wondered how long he had had it and where he possibly would have kept it during his stint in the service and his time on the streets. "John, you are quite the enigma," she said aloud again as she folded it up and placed it back into the drawer. Closing the drawer, she turned and went back to the bathroom door. The water was still running.

"You okay in there?" she shouted as she made a crack in the door.

"So far so good," John answered.

"I'll leave your clothes on the toilet," she said as she couldn't help but look at the outline of his perfectly sculpted form through the shower curtain.

"Thanks, Carter," he said.

Bringing herself back, she asked, "Do you want something to eat? I can fix something for you if you're hungry."

"Okay," John answered. "I have a few things in the kitchen…I think."

"You think? You don't know? You bachelors!" Carter joked.

"Yeah, that's what it is…a bachelor," Reese sarcastically answered. His sparse lifestyle had everything to do with his former training and the busyness of his current schedule. A few seconds later, Reese heard the door close as he continued washing the windshield glass out of his hair. The cut and contusion on his forehead throbbed intensely. His ribs ached with each breath. He had had many incidences of bruised and broken ribs, which meant he would have pain for several days. Physical pain was such a damn inconvenience. But for now he hoped the warm water would rejuvenate his tight muscles and weary mind as he stood under the shower until the water began losing its warmth.

He had grown quite accustomed to injury, though. He considered it a good day when he didn't catch a bullet, a beatdown, or a brawl. But things were different now. He wasn't just living for himself; Finch needed him, their mission needed him. But, more importantly, he now needed Harold Finch...and their mission.

He could also tell by the way Joss Carter had been acting toward him over the past few months that she now cared about him.

And the feeling was mutual.

He wasn't used to having people care about him, nor was he used to having a real purpose in his life. When he was young, he had believed in what he was called by his country to do, but eventually he had crossed the line so many times that he lost much of himself along the way. He took many lives in the name of public security. Then as he got older, he began to see that there no longer was a line. What he had come to know and trust was no longer so. What little of himself he had left, he completely lost behind enemy lines in his own country. Robotically, he killed many, many people with no thought before or after. To survive, he had to detach. But being in that frame of mind wasn't living but existing, and in his existence he had become a machine...a cold, emotionless machine. And as he had recently come to understand, he was plain and simply just Bad Code.

Finch had told him that bad code was only regarding machines, not people. What Finch didn't know was that John Reese is a machine. Reese didn't explain any of that to Finch. Some things were better kept to himself, he had reasoned.

Carter had gone into the kitchen and opened the cupboard. As expected, he had several cans of soup, spaghetti sauce and pasta, and a few cans of vegetables. His refrigerator wasn't much better. "Bachelors aren't usually this bad," she groused under her breath. Then she remembered that he was more than just a bachelor. He was ex-military where they teach you to survive sparsely and be ready to move in an instance. It appeared, Carter thought, that John Reese hadn't yet acclimated too well to civilian living.

A few minutes later she saw Reese coming toward her clad only in his jeans, holding his tee shirt and an ace bandage. The bruising on his chest seemed to be getting worse by the moment, she thought. "Need some help?"

"Just need the mirror to see," he answered.

"Oh give me a break!" she agitatedly responded, holding out her hands.

Reese jumped at the terseness of her statement then turned around to hand her the bandage. He found her tone amusing and comforting.

"Turn around," she instructed.

He turned around with his back to her and lifted his arms. "Not too tight, please. I'd like to be able to breathe."

"So you're one of those," Carter joked as she reached around him and started the bandage across his chest.

"One of those?" he asked.

"A bad patient!"

"I don't know what kind of patient I am because I can honestly say I've never had a Faux-doctor standing at my stove cooking canned soup for me after a car accident," John smirked.

As she brought the bandage toward his back with her hands, she examined his back to see where the first loop around should be placed. As she looked at his back, she could see his numerous scars. "Jesus, John! How many bullets have you taken?"

"Guess I've never counted," he answered.

"That non-answer is an answer. Have you not counted or have there been too many to count?"

"Guess the latter," Reese confessed.

Reese could hear Carter sign heavily behind him. He remembered Jessica's reaction to a bullet scar in his shoulder. That stayed with him. He didn't want to ask Jessica what she was thinking, so he gave no reaction to her slender fingers circling the wound over and over for several moments. He had deeply loved Jessica, and her gentle touch on the scar evoked feelings he had never felt before...or since. "I'm tough, Carter," he finally said.

"I know you are, John, but oh my God! One of these days your body will fight back and tell you it's had enough of this abuse.

"You're right."

She made the final circle of the bandage. "Where are the clips?"

Reese reached behind him and held the clips out to Carter.

She took them from his hand and clipped the bandage in place.

Reese grinned as he thought about her standing there in his kitchen stirring the soup at his stove. He had never before been so grateful to have someone at his back, literally...and metaphorically as well. As he turned around, their eyes locked for a few seconds; then both awkwardly took a step back from the other.

"Soup's ready," Carter announced. "Sit down and I'll bring a bowl to you."

Reese turned around and began carefully putting on his tee shirt. He focused on keeping his face free of painful expressions. He then made his way to the table and sat.

Carter poured two bowls of soup and two glasses of water and took them to the table. Putting one bowl and glass in front of him, she took the seat next to him with the second bowl and glass.

After several minutes of silence, Carter broached the subject. "How did Donnelly catch up to you?"

"Traffic light," Reese answered after he swallowed.

"What do you mean? There are thousands and thousands of traffic lights in this city."

"We happened to be at the same one. He looked over and recognized me."

"That seems a little far fetched even for you, John."

"I'm touched, Carter, that you're worried about me," John said in his usual sarcastic tone, "but really, this time was a coincidence."

Carter sat back in the chair and pulled out her best interrogator facial expression.

It was not lost on Reese. "Don't be paranoid like Finch. I don't think this was planned or a setup. We happened to be at the same place at the same time." John resumed eating, signalling Carter that he was done with that conversation.

"Okay tough guy. You better give me better warning next time when it's serious like that. You could very easily be under the CIA gun right now."

"Seriously, Carter, thank you for caring."

"It's my own blood pressure I'm worried about. Finch gives me that frantic call, and I'm expected to swoop in and save your ass," she said as she playfully backhanded his face.

"I'll make sure I run those traffic lights in the future."

"Always the funny guy," Carter said as she got up with her empty dishes and headed to the sink.

Several minutes later, Reese finished eating as well, and Carter could see his eyes intentionally closing for a few seconds as if he was willing away his headache.

"Your head?"

"Yes. Got some good drugs, Carter?"

"I could probably fix you up with some good ole Tylenol."

"Not what I was hoping for, but I'll take it."

Carter went to her purse and dug through it until she located the small white bottle. "Here, take these four. They may take the edge off the pain. How about your eyes? Still burning?"

"As if they're in hell," he answered.

"Visine?"

Reese perked up. Turning only his eyes to look at her, he answered, "Yes, whatever you have would be tremendous."

Carter continued digging around her Etienne Aigner handbag her mother had given her for Christmas several years ago. It was the classic maroon color. She wasn't one of those women who had to have a handbag to match every pair of shoes. Purses were more functional than stylish for her, so she used the one she had until it wore out.

John smiled as he watched her move around all of the items in the handbag. He had always considered her a very organized and precise person, but he was contemplating how much he actually did know about Detective Joss Carter. "It's okay, Joss, I'll survive without Visine."

"No, no, no, I know I have some in here somewhere."

Reese finished drinking his water and leaned back in the chair. "I think I'm going to hit the couch for a few minutes."

"Don't you go to sleep. John, I really believe you have a concussion, and I think you should wait until at least daybreak to sleep."

John frowned at her with very drowsy eyes.

"Here, I found it!"

Her loud shriek startled John. "Found what?" he asked.

"The Visine. I'll fix you up as good as new." She started walking toward him as she unscrewed the top. As she got closer to him, she could see how blood-shot his eyes were. "Lean back," she instructed. "I'll drop them in."

Reese wasn't used to such treatment, and he was slightly uncomfortable with the situation but didn't understand why. As he sat back and pushed his head against the back of the couch, he could feel Carter's warm touch on his face.

She then placed her fingers on his forehead, and tentatively lifting each eyelid, she squirted drops into both of his eyes. "That will fix you up in no time," she calmly stated. She watched as Reese blinked through the moisture, allowing some to run down the side of his face. She then moved her thumb along the drops that had run down his cheekbones to try and dry them off his face with just her fingers. In that instance as she looked down at his face, she saw someone she had never seen before: a vulnerable man.

His eyes remained closed and his head continued to prop against the back of the couch.

"John!" she yelled.

"I'm awake," he calmly answered.

"Just checking. You never get rattled, do you?"

He didn't answer immediately. "It's the military, Joss. They have a way of breaking people down."

"Yeah, they do, don't they?" Carter hesitated then continued. "I never did say I was sorry for turning you over to Snow and getting you shot."

Reese opened his eyes and turned to look at her. "Joss, I understand why you did. Really, I know Snow and what he's capable of."

"But I shouldn't have done that. I thought I was doing the right thing, and I'm sorry I almost got you killed."

"Really, it's okay," John said as he lay his hand on top of hers. He caught himself and pulled his hand back onto his lap.

After several moments of silence, Carter said, "Tell me something, John."

He turned again to face her.

"Her name was Jessica, wasn't it?"

The color in John's face drained,and his breathing intensified. He sat silently, not able to regain the calm and composed demeanor he always wore around people. "How do…you…know?"

"It was a case I was working on…your case. It took Donnelly and me there. We talked to her mother."

Reese looked away and stared at the wall in his line of sight. "That was a lifetime ago, Carter. I…can't talk about it."

"John, I already know."

"Then we don't need to talk about it," John stammered.

"I just want to be more of a friend to you."

John didn't know how to respond. He had never been in a situation like this before. "Friends…" he repeated in a flat monotone. It was neither a question nor a statement but more like someone had hit the rewind button on an automated recording.

Carter could see the faraway look in Reese's eyes. "Where did you go, John?" she asked.

"Carter, for your own safety and well-being, you don't want to be my friend. My friends get killed."

"Jessica's death was not your fault."

John remained stoic. He couldn't find the right words to articulate aloud. He believed with every fiber of his being that Jessica's death was his fault because he told her he was coming to help her, and he didn't. He believed her blood was on his hands. "Joss, I lost myself a long time ago. You need to keep a safe distance from me. You're a good person." He continued staring into space.

Joss moved closer to him, and as she placed her hand on the side of his face, she said softly, "And so are you."


	3. Redemption

Chapter Three: Redemption

Reese closed his eyes and leaned his head against the warmth of her hand.

Carter wasn't expecting that response from him. After an uncertain amount of time passed, she could hear his breathing becoming more rhythmic. "John," she whispered then saw his eyes open half-way.

"Joss, I can't talk about Jessie," Reese flatly answered.

Carter looked at him as his eyes shot down to his lap away from her. She moved his head around to face her. "Okay, if you ever need anyone to talk to, I'm here. I get it, John. I really do."

"I don't know how to do this...how to be a friend to you."

Carter wanted to reach out and take his hand but feared he would pull back.

Reese continued, "What, do we do dinner and talk about our favorite foods and hobbies then go into the gory details of my past?"

"I think that train left the station a long time ago, John. That's not what I'm saying." Carter kept her tone calm. She could see how much he was struggling.

"Then what do you want from me?"

"Want from you?" Carter's voice raised an octave higher. Her heavy New York accent became stronger. She was frustrated by his inability to connect to her.

Reese realized he had angered her. For this very reason he had always tried to avoid human relationships. They were messy, and he was unskilled in dealing with them.

Carter saw his red, irritated eyes darting back and forth. Calming her emotions, she stated, "I'm just saying that I probably talk to you more than anyone else I know, and we could help each other more."

"No, Joss, not me. You don't understand."

"Understand what?" she agitatedly asked.

"I'm a machine, and…" Reese hesitated for a long uncomfortable silence.

"And what, John? What could it possibly be?"

"Because I'm bad code."

"That makes no sense!" she snapped.

Reese stared ahead, not offering any explanation. He knew what he was and didn't feel the need to explain. He then said, "I know, Joss."

"I don't think you do. John Reese, you are a good man," Carter assured. "Do you hear me?" she asked as she placed her hand back on the side of his face.

Again, Reese closed his eyes and leaned in against her hand. Inhaling deeply, he disclosed, "That's not even my real name."

"I know. It doesn't matter what your name is. I also know what the military does to people. I'm just lucky I got out when I did. But please hear me when I say this. You may have done a lot of questionable things in your life…you may have killed a lot of people…you may even think you're responsible for Jessica's death…but it's not your fault…not your responsibility."

"You can't believe that?" Reese questioned.

"What you have done in your past doesn't matter anymore…"

"It does matter," Reese interrupted.

"No, John. You have to see that this is a fresh start for you."

Reese shook his head slightly. "If that were true, then I would have chosen another name."

"It doesn't matter what name you give yourself. The man you are has nothing to do with your name…or the things you've done in your past."

"Respectfully, Joss, I disagree with you. It has everything to do with who I am right now." After a short pause, Reese continued, "And who I really am is not the man you must think I am."

"I know you're a good man."

John brushed off her words.

"When I saw you up on the roof of that parking garage that night I sold you out to Snow, I knew I had made mistake even before they shot you. I could feel it in the pit of my stomach that things weren't supposed to go down that way," Carter said as she balled up her fist and tapped her stomach several times. "Why in the hell do you think when you need me now that I come running to help you?"

Reese thought about that night on the rooftop. He had never blamed her because he knew the decision she had made to let him go with Finch had to have been excruciatingly difficult for her. He then contemplated her question but offered no answer. Then in a low, quiet tone he slowly stated, "My past has made me who I am at present."

Carter ignored his statement and answered her own question. "I come to help you because I believe in you, John Reese. I know how damned conflicted you must be and what you must be feeling right now. Please trust me, I have felt the same way."

Reese turned to look at her. He hadn't considered that she might in fact know what he was feeling. "I just don't want you to get hurt or killed on my account."

"I'm a big girl, and I know what I'm getting myself into. I have seen you do so much good in the year I have known you." Carter ceased talking to continue to gather her thoughts. "And that's all I need to know. Okay? That's all I really need to know."

Reese turned to stare again at the wall in front of him. His mind was racing, and he couldn't figure out how to respond to this situation. He was particularly adept at getting himself out of physical altercations, but emotional situations were entirely different for him. He and Finch never talked about feelings. He presumed Finch knew all about him, so there was never a need to dredge up his past.

Carter was different, though. She wasn't damaged, and he didn't want to see her become damaged as a result of knowing him. But here she was, saving him from capture and then staying with him to make sure he was okay. Turning his head back toward her, he could tell from her facial expression that she truly cared about him and just wanted to know more about the person he truly was. He struggled at the thought of letting anyone into his world, but he knew he owed her more than what he was giving her. "Okay, Joss, how about one question. And I'll answer it as honestly as possible."

Carter thought for a moment. She couldn't tell if his maudlin eyes were from the airbag dust or if she had actually begun opening up the closed John Reese. "One question, huh? So maybe by next year you'll give me two," she laughed.

Reese smiled at her.

"Well….humm…I know. John, are you a religious man?"

Reese thought the question was odd. She could have asked any number of questions from his true identity to how he and Finch got their cases. "You just want to know about my religious convictions?"

"Yes, John. Are you a religious man?" she repeated.

Reese remained quiet for several moments, contemplating how best to answer her question. He couldn't figure out her motivation for wanting to know about his religious beliefs.

Carter broke the silence. "I saw your Crucifix when I got your clothes from the drawer."

Reese's jaw clinched tightly, and he began to breathe rapidly in short gasps. Perspiration formed on his face.

Carter could tell that she struck a chord in him but didn't want to let this drop because she felt it was too important. "Out of all of the things in this apartment," she said as she looked around from the pictures on the walls to the utensils in the kitchen, "that's really the only thing in this whole place that truly belongs to you…isn't it?"

Reese's breathing began to calm. "Yes," he finally quietly answered. Then after a short hesitation he added, "It was Jessie's. She gave it to me to keep me safe. It's all I have left of her."

"John, what you have of her is right there," Carter said as she placed her hand on his chest over his heart.

Reese put his hand on top of hers then closed his eyes. He was still and quiet for a long time. Finally he spoke, "Oh my God, Joss, I let her die. For as long as I live, I will always carry that." He paused then continued, "But you have to understand that it's also more than that."

"The military?"

"The things I did…there's no turning away from. There's no fresh start. There's no recovery, and there's certainly no redemption."

Carter could feel her throat tightening up. She wanted to cry but wanted even more to hold her composure in front of him. She needed to be strong.

"So the only thing I can do is to keep other people from going down the same iniquitous path I chose."

"You didn't answer my question, John. Are you a religious man? Do you believe in God?"

"I don't understand what that has to do with anything…but yes, I believe there is a higher power out there," John answered.

"It has everything to do with it. Since you're so determined to take all the responsibility for the deeds you've done, then I must ask you whether or not you believe that God forgives people for their past mistakes."

Reese couldn't process her question to form an intelligent answer. "Responsibility?" he finally asked. "Who else would be responsible…the military?"

"Well, yes," Carter answered.

"Everyone has free will. I knew what I was doing. I knew I had crossed the line and there would be no turning back. I knew the line between right and wrong…good and bad…had become nonexistent to me. I chose to do the things I did, Joss. Then all of the sudden it was no longer a matter of choice. My atrocious actions became an extension of me...then they became who I was." Reese then paused. He had never told anyone this before. He couldn't believe he was actually telling her these things.

"But you thought you were doing these things for the right reasons. Right? Kind of like when I turned you over to Snow and almost got you killed."

"It's entirely different, Joss, and you know that. You turned a bad man over to an agency of the federal government who wanted to remove that menace from society. All things considered, you did the right thing."

"How can you say that?"

"Because the only line you've ever crossed is the one that puts you here right now with me. I am forcing you to make decisions that put your career...and yourself...in peril."

"No one forces me to do anything! You of all people should know that about me. I am here because I chose to be here. I choose to help you. I know you must have once believed in what you were doing."

"Yes," Reese answered quietly.

"I see how blurry the line is now," Carter said. "I can understand how you got confused...lost."

"Everything became unclear to me. Eventually I stopped thinking...and became a killing machine."

"Oh God, John, I am so sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Just help me make sure other people don't go down that path. Once you start walking down it, then there's really no turning back."

Carter again gently placed her hand on the side of his face beneath the bruising of his eye.

Again, Reese leaned in to her warm touch. His eye lids drooped with pain and fatigue.

"I do believe you can turn back, John," Carter whispered close to his ear.

Reese heard her words as they pierced his brain.

Carter continued, "What I believe is that you now need to forgive yourself."

Reese could feel the heaviness of her words. His body physically reacted as it bowed under from its tense physical state.

Feeling his body slightly fall against her, Carter continued, "I promise in time you can learn how to forgive yourself."

Reese dropped his head down.

Carter wasn't sure what that meant. "I'm with you every step of the way," she whispered. "You are a good man…not bad code…as you think of yourself."

John could feel the warmth of her breath against his ear. He held back his emotions.

She paused for several more moments, studying him. Quickly wiping the tears that were beginning to form in her eyes, she then continued, "You will see in time."

Reese looked at her, noticing the tears in her eyes. He knew she meant what she was saying, but forgiveness was far from what he thought he could ever learn to do…would ever deserve. He wasn't worthy of a good life, of happiness, of peace. He had tortured, maimed, and killed so many people that he had lost track a long time ago. He had never asked if they were innocent. At first he wanted to know, then eventually that thought had slipped from his brain until it was no longer a part of any equation.

The only thing now that has enabled him to carry on with some semblance of a life was Finch's mission, saving innocent people. For the first time in his life, he was beginning to feel that his life had positive purpose and meaning. However, he knew he could never make up for his past wrongdoings. "Joss, there's not enough time in this world to bring about forgiveness for my past. I know you believe that I have been forgiven…that I can learn to forgive myself. Thank you for that. But it's too late for me."

"It's never too late, John," Carter calmly responded.

Reese stared deeply into her eyes. There was nothing left to talk about. He knew that Carter believed what she was telling him, and he loved her for that. Unfortunately, though, he thought she was mistaken.

As she saw him struggling to keep his eyes open, Carter whispered, "It's almost daybreak. Get some sleep. We can continue this discussion later."

Reese lay his head back on the couch. He was exhausted and needed some sleep.

In a few moments, Carter could hear Reese's soft rhythmic breathing. She watched him for a long time inhaling and exhaling short breaths. She was exhausted herself but couldn't get her mind off him. "What did they do to you?" she whispered to herself…even though she thought she already knew. She couldn't help but reach forward and touch the side of his face that had been bruised by the wound on his forehead. "You're a good man, John Reese…I know you are. I pray that one day you'll come to see that yourself, that you can find forgiveness for yourself."

Reese slept for almost an hour as Carter sat beside him, thinking about this past year and how she had grown accustomed to helping him...being with him. Then she watched as Reese jumped slightly in his sleep as an involuntary reaction to the pain his body was enduring.

Reese's eyes then fluttered halfway open and the corners of his mouth turned up into a small smile when he saw her. "Carter?"

"I'm still here," she answered.

"Guess I wasn't dreaming," Reese spoke in a disappointed tone as he shifted his weight on the couch to find a more comfortable spot for his bruised ribs.

"No, you're pretty banged up, but I'm sure you've withstood worse."

Reese's smile got broader. He certainly had.

"Remember what we talked about…okay?"

Reese's smile dropped. "Forgiveness…right."

"I know you don't understand right now…and don't know how to go down that path. But John, I care for you, and I can help you."

Reese swallowed hard.

Getting up from the couch and standing before him, Carter bent down and kissed him on his bruised cheek. "Thank you for helping the people of New York, John Reese. I'm here for you, just know that…okay?"

Reese stared at her, not reacting or responding. He wanted to say something, but he wasn't sure what was appropriate. He wanted to tell her how much he admired and had grown to count on her. He wanted to thank her for her care and for always being there to help him. He wanted to thank her for seeing the best in him. He wanted to tell her that he loved her for these reasons. But no words would come forward.

Carter could see that Reese was conflicted. After several moments, she said, "Get some more rest and recover from these injuries so you won't get your ass kicked the next time you're out defending the people in trouble."

Smiling up at her, Reese watched as she headed to the door. "Thanks, Joss. I'll see you soon," he said before she exited.

Carter smiled back as she closed the door behind her.

Reese thought about her words as he closed his eyes, considering getting more sleep before he got on with the new day. "Forgiveness," he spoke aloud. He shook his head. That certainly wasn't a road he had ever contemplated going down. Within moments, he drifted back to sleep.

As he slept this time, he dreamed about Jessica. He hadn't dream about her in several months. His dream brought back the time Jessica had given him the Crucifix. The events in his dream replayed the reality.

"I have a gift for you," Jessica had said as she turned over in the bed to the night stand and withdrew a small box with a little bow adorning the top.

"For me? Why? It's not my birthday," John had answered.

Jessica had handed him the box. She had been smiling broadly as he opened the box to expose the Crucifix.

"But this is yours. I can't take this," John had said.

"I want you to have this, please. Please accept it," Jessica had pleaded. She then reached into the box and took out the Crucifix and unhooked it. "Turn over," she had ordered as she put the Crucifix around his neck and clasped it securely in place.

John had lain motionless and silent, not knowing how best to respond.

"I want you to remember what this means, okay?" Jessica had said as she kissed his neck along the silver chain and then onto his chest where the Crucifix lay.

John had responded, "What it means? What? That it will keep me safe?"

"That…and…well, don't ever forget what the Crucifix stands for. No matter what you do in service to our country, don't ever forget what this means," Jessica had stated.

John had reached up and held the Crucifix tightly in his hands and had said, "Forgiveness."

"Yes," Jessica had affirmed as she smiled broadly at him.

"I won't Jessie. Thank you for this. I'll try not to forget."

"No, not try, just don't ever forget," she had cried.

Seeing her cry made him as well. They shared this divine moment, the two of them, alone, lying in each other's arms, not needing to talk anymore to the other.

Several moments later John awoke, searching for Jessica, confused as to where he was and the time frame. "Jessie! Jess!" he screamed aloud. The auditory sound of her name brought him back to present day. As he lay there, emotions of sorrow overcame him, and he wept. "I'm so sorry, Jessie. I had forgotten what it meant. I'm so sorry," he cried.

Regaining composure, he then heard Carter's words in his head that he needed to learn to forgive himself. He then guardedly got up off the couch and headed to the dresser. Dropping slowly to his knees, he pulled the drawer open to obtain Jessica's Crucifix. He had loved Jessica with an emotion so powerful that her absence left him incomplete. Staring at the tarnished silver symbol, Reese remembered how alive he felt when he was with Jessica. He remembered how wearing the Crucifix made him feel good and honorable. Arising to his feet, Reese opened the clasp and slipped the Crucifix around his neck. He then turned to look at his image in the dresser mirror. His thoughts of Jessica then turned to Carter. "Okay, Joss, so how do you propose I go about this business of forgiveness?" he asked aloud.

Going to his nightstand drawer by his bed, he pulled out a burner phone and dialed Carter. When she answered he said, "Joss, thanks again for saving my ass last night."

He wanted to say more but was interrupted by Carter who lectured him on taking it easy and keeping his head wound clean. "Joss…Joss," he interjected as she continued instructing him as to what he needed to do. "I just want to tell you that I heard what you said about forgiveness."

For the first time in her relationship with him, Detective Joss Carter was speechless.

"I…I will just need…your help. I don't know how to do that."

"You really can turn back," she said softly to him through her cellphone.

"I trust you, Joss."

"I'm with you, John. I can help you find peace."

Reese felt his emotions well up in him.

"Just understand that you are a good man doing good things for people. The impact you are having is immense."

"Okay, Joss. I'll call you later in in the day," he softly said into the phone then clicked off.

Grasping the Crucifix tightly, he looked up to the ceiling and said aloud, "Jessie, I'm sorry I hadn't remembered what you told me. I have been lost, but I think I'm coming back…I think I can find myself again."

He then lay down on his bed for some last minute rest before Finch contacted him to set their current mission in motion. He loved their mission and began to see that with each person they saved, the world was perhaps becoming a better place because of their mission.

…And because of him.

The End


End file.
